


Calm Go the Wild Seas

by jawsandbones



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, porn with just an inch of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 21:04:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6824119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jawsandbones/pseuds/jawsandbones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A moment of comfort after a close call during a fight, between Fenris and Hawke.</p><p>She is standing in the rain, arms hugging herself, and shivering from the cold. The lightning arcs across the sky and lights up her face, and she is watching him approach her. She isn't wearing her armor, but casual trousers and a white shirt which clings to her. How long as she stood here waiting for him? “Hawke,” he tells her, “you did not have to wait for me.” She only smiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Calm Go the Wild Seas

**Author's Note:**

> Everything's all right  
> It takes a strength beyond strength to smile  
> I'm missing you like hurricanes  
> I give 'em names but their waves keep rollin'  
> Calm Go the Wild Seas - Beulah

There are more bandits than usual, surrounding them and laughing. Fenris shouts, trying to draw their attention to him, and away from Anders and Hawke who are casting desperate spells. Isabela moves with grace, trying to pick off the stragglers, herding them towards Fenris. Fighting is second nature. He sees things through a tunnel, sword slash here, thrust there, kick at this knee, parry to left, on and on and he does not pause. He does not dare.

Hawke’s magic flutters at the edge of his vision, pulling bandits and slamming them to the ground with unseen power. She is trying to thin the herd for him, focusing all her energy into offensive spells, allowing Anders to take over the defensive. Fenris can always feel the difference in their magic, while Hawke’s feels like a lover’s touch on the back of his neck, Anders’s magic is cold and indifferent, an ice cube travelling down his spine.

Fenris is unknowingly putting distance between himself and the others, moving with mechanical strokes, lost in the heat of battle. This distance is dangerous, and Hawke watches him warily, her mana pool growing thinner as she throws extra protection at him. So focused on the enemies before him, he does not see the assassin materializing from the shadows. She shouts and he does not hear her, so she runs towards him instead.

The assassin’s blades find her staff instead of Fenris’s back, as she pushes him out of the way. The staff clatters to the ground below her, blood on her hands. She cries out and it is all she can do to raise her hands across her face as the assassin slashes again. Blood spews from her arms and her wrists and she collapses to the ground with a shout, fingers scrabbling at the wounds. Fenris’s sword finds the assassin’s center, blade sticking from him like a stuck pig, and the assassin collapses without a sound.

Fenris does not do the same, falling to her side with a shout, cradling her in his arms as the blood bubbles through her fingertips. He adds his hands to hers, hands over gaping wounds, as her head lolls against his chest, vision swimming. “Hawke, Hawke, please, look at me,” he pleads with her desperately, and she frowns trying to make sense of the scene before her. Fenris’s next scream is not for her, but for Anders.

He rushes to their side, accusing Fenris, “how could you let this happen?” and Fenris does not have an answer. Instead he is panicked, holding Hawke tightly, unable to let go. Anders unclips the remaining bottle of lyrium from her belt and downs it, his own supply empty. He presses glowing hands against her wounds, and they begin to close under his touch. Fenris feels so utterly useless here, and the guilt presses in at all sides, he should have protected her.

“Fenris,” she says, her eyes closed but she is smiling, “don’t worry.” He hears the words but all he can do is worry. He is sure she can feel his arms shaking as he holds her and he presses his forehead against hers. Anders is sweating, arms trembling with effort, and Isabela places a hand on his shoulder to steady him. It looks worse than it is now, the wounds closed and all that is left is the blood that has already left her body.

Anders leans on his staff when he rises, Isabela extending an arm to help him. Fenris rises with Hawke in his arms, unable and unwilling to relinquish her. She does not protest, and as they walk back to Kirkwall from the Storm Coast, rocked by the rhythm of his steps, she falls asleep. She wakes in the dark of Anders clinic, still stained by blood and the only thing that is missing is Fenris. “He left somewhere, said he didn’t deserve to be here,” Anders tells her dryly, clearly disapproving. Hawke is understanding, and with her mind clear from the fog of pain, knows he must feel that he failed her. He will return to her though, he always does. She will wait for him, as she always does.

She is standing in the rain, arms hugging herself, and shivering from the cold. The lightning arcs across the sky and lights up her face, and she is watching him approach her. She isn't wearing her armor, but casual trousers and a white shirt which clings to her. How long has she stood here waiting for him? “Hawke,” he tells her, “you did not have to wait for me.” She only smiles.

“Where did you go this time?”

“Does it matter?” he asks her, and she shrugs. It doesn’t really. She just wants to make sure that he’s alright. Fenris cups her face in his hands, feeling the cold on her skin, and she closes her eyes at his touch. Inviting her inside, Hawke stands in front of his fireplace, dripping with wet, still shaking. Her shirt does nothing to hide her from him, so see through and stuck to her. She raises her arms above her head and he peels it off of her, settling it into a wet heap beside her. Trousers come next, and he kisses her hipbone as he helps her step out of them.

She is looking up at him as he dries her with a towel, soft strokes across her shoulders and back, squeezing water from her hair. Her underclothes are soaked as well, and those are the next to fall. He runs the towel under her breasts, feeling the gentle weight above his hands as he does so. Her fingers find the buttons on his own wet tunic, and she works her way down methodically, before pulling it off of him. Hands on his chest, fingers on his collarbone, exploring and feeling, and gooseflesh raises not from the cold but her touch.

He finds he cannot wait any longer, and with a hand wrapped around her waist, pulls her to him. He devours her mouth with an aching hunger, tongue pressing against her, begging entrance. She obliges him and they fight for dominance. The rest of her may be cold but her mouth is warm, and it only spreads from there. She has her hands on the laces of her trousers, and finds him already hard for her. It only makes her fingers work faster, and with an insistent tug, he steps out of his trousers as well. Freed from its constraints, his hard length springs towards her and she takes him in hand.

He moves her backwards, mouth not leaving hers, until he feels her gasp at the cold of the stone wall she is leaning against. Only then does he break the kiss, tracking downwards, to take a nipple in his mouth. He suckles and bites at it in the way that makes her moan, one hand covering her mouth and the other wound in his hair. He does not neglect her other breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers. He pinches at it and she makes a keening cry, encouraging him forward.

He trails kisses down her navel, dropping to his knees in front of her. When he looks up at her, her face is flushed and she looks at him through half-lidded eyes, mouth open and chest heaving with aching breath. His own breath is on sensitive flesh, and she moves her hips towards him with a whispered "please". One leg draped over his shoulder, he tastes her, that sweetness that drips from her cunt. Tentative licks at first, on that delicate nub, one finger running along the entrance of her folds. Only her shoulders rest against the wall now, the rest is moving towards him of their own accord, both hands now grasping his head.

He eats her like a starving man whose only salvation is her nectar. She is gasping and crying, hands knotted in his hair, and he can feel her heartbeat against his tongue. He slips one finger inside her, a brief feeling to tease, and she moans at its loss. He sucks at her nub and it is with this her legs shake, both the one supported by him and the other which is fighting a losing battle to stay upright. He slips the finger back inside her, in and out, and she arches against him.

He leaves bite marks on her inner thigh, just hard enough to make her whine, and she joins him on her knees. Precum is already dripping from his cock, and she takes a finger to it, a touch so light and so damnably good, then puts her finger in her mouth. She sucks at it, knowing what that does to him. He goes at her lips with a growl, keeping a hand on her neck so she cannot escape. She keeps a hand wrapped around his cock, and he grinds into it with urgency. When they part, her lips are red and raw, because of _him_.

He takes her by the shoulders and bends her over the bed, her hands fisting into his sheets, and she looks at him, mouth open and wanting. He trails a finger down her spine, leaving gooseflesh in its wake, over her round ass and grasps at the underside of her thighs. Legs spread and ass raised like this, he can see her cunt dripping, leaving wet like rain on his floor. He takes himself in hand and runs his head along her folds, and all she can do is hold onto the bed.

He enters her slowly, and she moans all the way, savoring the feeling of fullness that only he can give her. Fully inside her, he pauses, fingers tweaking her nipple and the other moving to rub against her clit. Her hips buck, a desperate attempt for friction and makes a needy whine. He bites at her back, making her cry out, and he moves his hips to exit her, but only just. When he has almost slipped out of her, he slams back in. Her moan stutters then and she screams his name as his assault is relentless, her cunt squeezing around him, warm, wet, and always wanting.

He stretches over her, one of his hands on top of hers, the other holding onto her waist, and he presses kisses into her shoulders. They rut together, her hips grinding against his as his cock slams in and out of her. His fingers find space between hers, and he can feel her shake and writhe underneath him, quivering at his attentions. He snakes an arm underneath her and pulls her off the bed, until she is leaning against him fully and her movements take over from his. Knees moving up and down, her head is against his, and one arm is stretched back to wind in his hair.

He has one hand on her breast and her other hand is over his. His other hand makes its way down, to rub at her clit. With her moving like this, he can feel his fingertips against his own cock and he knows it will not be long. He gasps and groans with her, finger pressing against her nub with insistence. He can feel her cunt grow tighter as she shudders and shakes above him, coming with his name on her lips. The hand over her breast clutches tighter as his breathing quickens, the waves of her pleasure crashing into him and pulling him along with it. He comes inside her with a shuddering groan, hand bruising into her thigh as he does.

It takes a few moments for them to start moving again, but when they do it is Hawke that pulls him up onto the bed with her. She makes herself comfortable in the crook of his arm, an arm over his chest, tracing lazy circles. He presses a chaste kiss into her forehead, tasting the salt from sweat there. Better than any towel, any fire, it is the only real way to warm each other. “I am yours,” he tells her and he feels her smile against his chest.

They can hear the rain falling, the storm that batters against their gates. “You should not have – today, I should – Hawke,” he struggles to find the words to tell her that for a moment he was so scared. Unable to tell her how much he needs her, how much her existence means that he too can exist. How angry he was that she took the blow for him, how guilty he was at her having to take a blow for him.

She presses her lips to his, silencing his thoughts, and propping herself up on an elbow she looks at him and brushes hair from his face. “Fenris, we protect each other. It all turned out alright. We’ll be more careful next time,” she says softly, leaning in to press a kiss to his brow.

“Hawke,” he murmurs, hand on her cheek and she leans into it with a smile, “I am yours.” He tells her this knowing that she will understand all the meaning underneath it, that she is his choice and that he will always be with her. She laughs, pulling him into her arms, and he is calm with an ear pressed against her chest. Her heartbeat is steady and clear, and he holds her tight. She hums happily, playing with a lock of his hair.

“Tomorrow, no fighting,” she says and he agrees wholeheartedly. He wants to keep her here, safe, with him. He leans up towards her, his weight on her, and her lips are a familiar taste. She returns his kiss with fervor, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He kisses her cheek, her jaw, her chin and her neck. There he sucks and bites, leaving a very visible mark.

“You are mine,” he growls.

“Yes,” she breathes.

**Author's Note:**

> A drabble for my dear friend [ Pandaleon.](http://thepandaleon.tumblr.com/) Please go and check out her art, it is amazing! You can find her art blog at [ this link.](http://saa-pandaleon.tumblr.com/) She does gorgeous HawkexFenris. 
> 
> Hope you liked it my lovelies! Always happy to chat at [my tumblr.](http://jawsandbones.tumblr.com/) Cheers <3


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